


So You Wish It

by cityjuice



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dildos, Genie - Freeform, Genies, M/M, Magic, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityjuice/pseuds/cityjuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based one on a writing prompt from paintdripps</p><p>Alfred discovers a lamp at a market place, not realizing the potential held in it. It isn't until he finds himself alone with an attractive stranger in his apartment that maybe, just maybe, there might be something magical about this entire situation- and he intends to get proof of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So You Wish It

Alfred would lay to claim that he was more of a night-owl than a morning-bird, with late night gaming and horror-movie marathons taking up a majority of his nights. But he couldn’t help but admit there was just something so worth it to wake up and go to the market-place in the early morning. There was something magical about the way that the fresh produce scented the air, the calls of those trying to sell old goods or knock-off electronics, the hundreds of stands of different products all at prices that were unimaginable- yeah, it seemed it’s own world in it’s own. Alfred would 100% say that this was worth getting up for.

On this particular morning, Alfred and his roommates Francis and Kiku had gone in pursuit of cheap, fresh produce (and maybe a cool knick-knack Alfred could tinker with or a knock-off game Kiku could try out.) It was Francis’ job to pick out the vegetables and fruits- being the main one to cook in the apartment. It was Kiku’s job to pick out sweets and breads, always finding the most interesting and delectable of foods. And lastly, it was Alfred’s job to try to get good deals on trivial things like paper towels and soap that most of the merchants would sell in cheap bulk. Buying things this way was the cheapest method, and actually got them by pretty nicely.

Alfred walked through the market stalls, big bags of toilet-tissue and other essentials on either arm. Francis was still picking out vegetables (“Mon ami, you can never be too picky over fresh food!” he would claim, spending hours mulling over three different carrots,) and Kiku was lost in a world of video games. Alfred found peace wandering around the mechanical toy area, wondering how he would be able to take apart the mechanical flimsy dogs and make them into something else.

He found he had almost mapped out the entirety of the gigantic marketplace. They really did have everything here. (Even a sex-toy area. Self proclaimed “self-lubricating dildos” lined one area- ‘The Amazing Genies!,’ and Alfred had almost purchased one as a gag-gift for Francis, until he realised with a shudder that the man might actually use it. It wouldn’t have been such a gross idea to him, if he didn’t share his room with him, and the idea of Francis trying to test it out in the middle of the night would be giving him nightmares for months.)

He had reached the edge of the mechanical stalls, when a glimmer caught his eye. He glance over across the way. An antique stall sat tucked away in a forgotten corner. It looked like it was the home of thousands of cobwebs and moldy furniture. Alfred shrugged. Why not go in? It seemed like an adventure waiting to happen.

Alfred wandered over to the shop, the musty smell smacking him in the face. Perhaps this would just be a time-waster after all. An elderly Filipino man gave him a wide, toothless smile and a chipper “Hello!” as he entered the area.  
Alfred stalked between tables of old rugs and drawers. Porcelain babies stared up at him with watering eyes, and hideous lawn decor that had long seen it’s day jutting out from another stack. Yup, most of this stuff was definitely junk.

However, the lamp section caught his eye. A rusting metal table displayed an array of lamps of all types, sizes, and interesting physique. A cat holding a lightbulb gleaned from the centre of the table. A round, jade-green, vase-like bowl with fairy-lights illuminated the far corner of the section, right next to it’s tall skinny flagpole neighbour. 

Alfred picked up one completely-glass lamp, and felt his fingers permeate the thick layer of dust on it. Frowning, he set it back, prepared to head back out when one particular lamp caught his eye. It didn’t exactly have any source of light coming from it, but appeared to be made out of solid gold. It glowed from where it sat, as if it had just been polished not a minute ago. It cast its own form of light, but Alfred didn’t understand why it sat with the lamps. It looked more like a gravy boat with a lid to him. A really, really fancy gravy-boat. 

For a reason Alfred couldn’t comprehend, it seemed to be calling to him. It whispered his name in his ear, sending coils of intoxicating promises to his mind. Save me, it pleaded, I’ve been here for so long. You seem worthy of me.

He shook his head. He must be really hungry, thinking a gravy boat was talking to him. Still, he figured he should buy it. If nothing else, his mom would be happy he had something nice in his apartment. (“The nicest thing you have in here for guests is the tv! And nothing good to serve food!” She had nagged the last time she visited.) The American looked for a price tag but saw none. 

He picked it up, surprised at it’s lightweight, and turned to the old man. “How much for this gravy boat?” 

The man grinned at him, looking cheerful despite the gloomy atmosphere the antiques created. “Five!” He announced. 

“Five dollars? For gold? Sweet, I’ll take it!” Alfred clutched the lamp under his arm and began to dig out his wallet. 

The man shook his head. “Five-hundred!” 

Alfred felt his heart drop. Five-hundred for a gravy boat? That was insane! He looked back at the man. Haggling hadn’t even really been his thing, but he had seen Francis do it enough, that maybe he could imitate him. He took a deep breath, puffed his chest out, and said definitively “Ten dollars.”

The old man’s mouth fell open, and he made a noise of indignation. “Ten dollars? No! Four-hundred!”

“Eight.”

“Three-hundred!”

“Seven?”

“Two-hundred!”

“It’s a gravy boat! Six!”

The man grumbled, and then spat out, “Fifty!”

“Ten?” Alfred offered. The old antique seller narrowed his beady eyes. “Ten whole American dollars and two quarters?”

The antiquer pouted his lip, before nodding. “Deal.”

And so, Alfred had ended up with the shiny gravy-boat.

Going back to the apartment, he realised he didn’t really have a place for it. He sat it on his window sill, pleased with the way it gleamed in the light. Francis had raised his eyebrows at the American’s purchase, but shrugged it off. He had been used to the odd items by now. 

After a week of the lamp in the apartment, Alfred had nearly forgotten about it. It wasn’t until Francis had gone off to one of his many lover’s apartments for the night, and Kiku had gone out on a date with the Greek man down the hall, that Alfred had even paid the lamp any attention.

Alfred was playing a game on his XBOX, linking up with his German (“Prussian!” he would claim with annoyance) friend and kicking zombie asses. It had been a particularly hot June night, so he had the window cracked.

He had been in the middle of an epic battle, guns ablazing, when he heard someone call his name.

Startled, he looked around his room. Seeing no one, he asked into his headset, “Gil? Matt? Andy? Did any of y’all just say my name?”

“Nah man. Hey! Can you cover me?” Gil responded, dismissing Alfred’s inquiry. 

Alfred blasted the large zombie off his friend’s back, and then helped his Danish friend. Just as he was about to machete the witch's head off, he heard it again, loud and clear: “Alfred.”

He jumped. He didn’t recognize the voice, and he was more than certain it had come from the apartment. 

“Hey guys, I’ll be right back- I think someone’s outside. You can let me die, just finish this round without me.”

He set his controller down and headset, hearing Gil’s annoyed groans and his brother’s reassurance of “It’s probably your imagination.”

The American wandered out into the hall, yelling “Hello? Francis? Kiku?” 

When there was no response, he went back into his room and walked over to the window. Alfred peered out over the edge and into the alley. He didn’t see anyone, so he shrugged, intent on going back to his game.

As he turned back to his game (watching as a zombie oh-so-nicely bit into his character’s neck) he heard it again, this time right in his ear: “Alfred.”

The fourth-year college student nearly jumped in his skin, and shot back around. He found his eyes resting on the lamp. A small smudge had found it’s way on the nose of it. 

Alfred picked it up, intent on rubbing off the mark, when the voice said “Alfred!”

Mid-rub, and a jolt of what seemed to be electricty radiating off of him, the American then proceeded to throw his adored gravy-boat out the window. 

Alfred stared, frozen in horror, as he heard the boat go “clunk!” A then, very annoyed, “Ow!” followed suit.

Oh shit. Did he just nail some guy with a gravy boat?

Shit shit shit shit shit, Alfred swore as he raced down his stairs to go to the alley. Turning the corner, he did indeed see someone sitting underneath his window, rubbing at their head.

“Shit! Dude, I’m so sorry!” Alfred yelled out, practically sprinting to the stranger. “I totally didn’t mean to hit ya with that and, uh…” Alfred found himself trailing off, taken aback by the stranger’s attire.

A young man, maybe near Alfred’s age, sat in front of him, sitting in what Alfred would call “criss-cross applesauce” style. He wore a shiny emerald-green vest with a golden trim that exposed his midriff. His legs were adorned with silk emerald pants, a golden waistline holding them in place, and golden bands holding them to his calves. His arms spotted similar golden bands, rings with colour jewels curling around his fingers. His ears were pierced with so much glittery jewelry, it looked like it weighed more than the man himself. Golden hair was messily splayed out on his head, and two irritated green eyes peered out at him from underneath two massive black eyebrows. The man had no shoes on, and had the lamp in his lap.

Shit, Alfred thought, I smacked some hot guy with a gravy boat. Nice one, Al. The two had locked eyes, Alfred’s surprise freezing him to the spot, and the stranger positively glaring at him. After an awkward moment or two, Alfred blurted out “Were you on your way to a costume party?”

The stranger gawked. “Excuse me?” 

Alfred took that as a strong no, and realised he probably just smacked a male prostitute on the head. With his looks, Alfred supposed he didn’t have much trouble making his daily quota. 

“Uh, how’s your head? Do you want to come in for some ice?” Alfred asked, feeling awkward under the intense gaze he was under. 

The stranger blinked. “Ice?” 

Damn, he really hit him hard, didn’t he? Alfred stretched out a hand to the seated man to help him up. “Yeah, for your head. Look man, I’m really sorry for hitting you with my gravy boat. I got spooked, and it just kind of slipped from my hand. My name’s Alfred, let me help you up.”

The stranger glanced at his hand, and then stood up, leaving Alfred with his hand still outstretched. The American gently recalled it. The stranger was still clutching the lamp tightly in his hands. And then, with much indignation, “Wait, gravy boat?!”

Okay, so maybe this guy didn’t speak English fully. Or Alfred had just hit him hard enough to knock him silly. 

“Yeah, it’s a long story. I live on the third floor, and we don’t have an elevator. Will you be okay to walk?”

The stranger huffed, but gestured for Alfred to lead the way, so he figured that was some form of progress. 

Alfred walked up the stairs, chatting to the stranger with empty words. He could barely get two words out of this guy, let alone a full sentence. 

Reaching Alfred’s apartment, he quickly shoved his key in, and motioned for the stranger to follow. 

The quaint little apartment always made Alfred happy to see. A tiny kitchen next to a living room-like area, where they had set out an old pull-out couch and tv, which passed into a hall with the two bedrooms and bathroom; maybe it wasn’t the biggest living space, but it felt just right to Alfred. 

He took the stranger to the kitchen, set him at a stool, and handed him a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. He rubbed the back of his head as the stranger stared at the peas in his hand, before Alfred pointed to his own head. The stranger gave him a confused look as he set the bag on his head.

Alfred sighed. “Look dude, maybe we need to take you to the ER? You might have a nasty concussion. I can call an ambulance- I don’t have a car. Are you okay with that?”

The stranger continue with his look of annoyance at Alfred, and the American felt this starting to grain on his nerves. The whole “silent-treatment” never went well with him. 

Alfred huffed. “Can I at least get your name? I need to know some basics to tell the squad.” The American dug out his phone, ready to call. He just wanted this silent man out of his house, damned if he were cute. 

The man looked taken aback. “You wish to know my name?”

Alfred stared at him. “I kind of need to know what to call you? Actually, how old are you? They’ll want to know that too,” Alfred responded, fingers hovering over the dial button. 

The stranger pondered for a second. “Do you wish for this information?”

“Look man, this doesn’t really matter to me- I’m just trying not to make their lives harder,” Alfred shrugged, duly noting the stranger had an English accent. 

The man huffed, and Alfred was certain he were about to lapse into silence, but then he spoke up. “Arthur. You may call me Arthur. What does master wish of me to do?”

Alfred gawked at Arthur, dropping his phone, before pushing up his glasses with a nervous laugh. “Ha, uh, n-no, don’t worry! I don’t need you to do anything like, uh, that,” he responded, wildly gesturing to Arthur’s outfit, hoping he would get the message. True, he had a pretty long dry-spell going, and this guy was definitely drop-dead gorgeous, but man, he really did not need the whole package deal with this one. 

Arthur huffed and crossed his arms. “You do not need me for my services? Then why did you call upon me?”

Alfred felt his face heat up. His neck felt warm. “I didn’t call you for your services! I hit you with a gravy boat!”

“Lamp! It’s a lamp!” Arthur shouted, rising quickly, the bag of peas sliding off his head. There was fire in his eyes. “Not a blasted gravy-boat! And I swear, Alfred Jones, you have to be the most irritating customer I have dealt with!”

Did he tell Arthur his last name? Alfred thought, but pushed it aside, focusing on the more pressing issue. “I am not a customer! I wanted to help you! Jeez, you can leave if you want, and go make money in some other alleyway!”

Arthur stomped his foot. “I don’t want money! I want freedom! Lad, do you even realise who I am?”

Alfred paused, realisation dawning on his face. “Ohmygosh, you’re some guy’s bitch?!”

Arthur stared at the taller man, and then his face took on it’s own red tint. “You think I’m a..? Oh lord, no! No! Well, unless you want it, of course, but-” Arthur faltered. He then looked Alfred up and down. “How stupid are you?”

Alfred flinched, and then scowled. “Not stupid enough to get hit by gravy boats, that’s for sure.”

“LAMP! It’s a lamp! Not something for that slop! A. Lamp!” Arthur hissed. He squared his shoulders and grounded his teeth. “Did you or did you not want a genie?”

A genie…?Alfred could have laughed. Was this guy from the market place? Did he see Alfred wandering around the sex-toy area? “I- want a- That wasn’t for- did you-” Alfred stuttered out, and then, blurted, quite loudly: “I didn’t want a dildo!”

If Arthur had looked any form of lost before, it was nothing compared to how puzzled he looked now. “A dildo..? That’s what you were thinking about in the antique shop? Not an almighty being?”

Alfred bit his tongue to keep from laughing. That is what the package called it… And then it dawned on him- “How do you know that’s what I was thinking about?! Have you been stalking me?! Oh god, and you’re in my house!” he shrieked, backing away. 

Arthur followed, wanting oh-so much to punch this large man-child. “I could have waited for someone else,! I thought you wanted me!” He yelled. “You dropped me out of a window!”

Alfred tried to flee to his room, but Arthur snagged his arm. Oh god, he was going to be murdered by a nut-job in a skimpy attire, he thought. Alfred pushed at the man’s chest with his opposing arm, and when he didn’t budge, tried to kick his shin. The shorter man grabbed Alfred’s other wrist, and pulled him to his chest, locking Alfred’s arms awkwardly between them. Alfred could feel heat pooling off of Arthur- if that was really his name.

Damn, this guy’s strong! Alfred thought, twisting to get out of the grip. No such luck.

The two locked eyes for a brief moment, and just as Arthur opened his mouth to say something, Alfred saw his opening, and spit directly into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur made a noise something of “Hurk!” and Alfred kicked his legs out from underneath the stalker, sprinting to his room. He slammed and locked the door behind him, hearing Arthur scamper and then beat against the door.

Shit, I need to call the cops! My phone, where is my phone!? He thought frantically feeling his pockets. Alfred recalled with horror the device slipping from his fingers onto the tile of the kitchen. Crap.

He glanced back to his room, and realised the game was still going. Gilbert’s character was currently teabagging Alfred’s dead character, meaning they were still online. Alfred frantically grabbed at his headset, hearing Gilbert’s counting in German “-elf, zwölf, dreizehn-”

“Guys!” Alfred cut him off. The character on screen stopped. 

“Alfred?” He heard his brother, Matt, say. “You’re still there?”

“You’ve gotten brutally murdered by the awesome me!” he heard Gilbert laugh.

“I’m about to be like for-real murdered! There’s some crazy guy in my apartment who knows my name and I think he’s a prostitute and I accidently dropped a gravy boat on his head but that doesn’t matter because he’s trying to kill me!” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! Where’s Francis’ and Kiku? Why don’t you call the cops?” Matt questioned. He sounded worried.

“Out. They’re both out. My phone’s out there with him! I don’t know what to do!”

“Can you beat him down?” Andersen, a.k.a. Andy the American’s Danish friend, inquired.

“No, he’s like super strong!” Alfred panicked. He never thought he would go down like this, taken out by a crazed dildo salesman. He always thought he would die a lot cooler. 

The beating on the door continued, and Alfred could see the wood was beginning to give into the strength. He was running out of time. 

“He’s about to burst the door down! What do I do?!” he shrieked. His friends were silent on the other side. “Guys?! Hello?! Dude, I’m about to be murdered! Help!”

“Murdered?” He heard a muffled voice on the other side of the door say. “For gods’ sake, I’m annoyed with you, but I’m not going to kill you!” The banging stopped. “Take off your headset and open the door so we can talk like civilized people.”

“Alfred?” he heard Gilbert distantly say. “What’s going on?”

“Hold on,” he whispered into the microphone. And then, much louder, “You just want to kill me! Or lock me up! You sick-o!”

He heard Arthur huff. “I don’t want to kill you! Maybe give you a good square punch, but not murder you! I have to fulfill your three wishes! It’s the only way I can be free of contract with you!”

Wait… three wishes? Alfred slipped off his headset. “Are you trying to tell me you’re an actual genie?” 

An exasperated groan, and then- “Finally, the last horse crosses the finish line! Now, master Alfred, can you please give me your three wishes so we can be done here?”

Alfred paused. “Prove it!”

“Excuse me?” 

“Prove you’re a genie, and not just some wacked-out fake-dick salesman!”

“Make a wish then, you tosser!” Arthur retorted.

Alfred was silent for a moment, and Arthur wondered if he was trying to climb out the window. Alfred had to think of something that this guy wouldn’t be able to produce from behind the door. So, naturally, he said the first thing that came to mind that was outlandish. “I wish for a six-foot dildo that vibrates and lubricates.”

Alfred could nearly hear Arthur’s deadpanned expression. “You’re serious? Not a beautiful girl, not loads of wealth, but a gigantic fake dick?”

No, he wouldn’t get much out of a beautiful girl but- “Wait, actually-”

“So you wish it, so it appears!” Arthur said in a booming voice, and the walls of his apartment shook. 

Alfred suddenly felt a looming shadow over him. He turned his head, and felt his jaw drop as just what he asked for stood over him. A six-foot, gigantic, fake dick sat over him, validating Arthur’s claims and 100% scaring the living hell out of Alfred.

“Can you please open the door now? I still need to tell you the rules and whatnot.”

Alfred shakily unlocked the door, and stared down at a smug-looking Arthur. Arthur looked his work up and down, and gave a whistle. “You know, you are an arsehole, but do you really think you’re that big of an arsehole?” He said, and then proceeded to laugh at his own joke. 

Alfred went red in the face, before pulling Arthur in and shutting the door. “What are the rules?” he asked, seriousness blazing from his eyes. The incredible wealth sounded amazing, Alfred thought.

“Right to the point? Guess there’s no beating around the bush for you. Well, for starters, we do share a mental connection,” Arthur stated, walking over to Alfred’s bed and sitting down. He patted the spot next to him, and Alfred instinctively walked over and sat. “So I can hear your thoughts and know when you’re in trouble-”

“Wait, you can hear everything I think?!” Alfred exclaimed. He realised with mortification he had been thinking about boning this dude not an hour ago.

Arthur shook his head. “It’s more or less I have a feeling of trouble you’re in. I felt you want something amazing in the antique shop, so I spoke out to you. I also felt the intense stress I put on you trying to talk to you. Things of that nature.

“If you die, your next of kin gets the remainder of your wishes, plus their own three- and that makes the contract so much more unnecessary, so it would be most beneficial if you were to stay alive.” Arthur continued. He paused, but Alfred motioned for him to continue. “You cannot wish for anyone back from the dead. Whatever you wish for, will be taken from either someone else, or another universe. You cannot wish to be more powerful than a genie, and you most certainly cannot wish for more wishes.”

“That’s it? There’s nothing more to it?” Alfred asked.

Arthur clicked his tongue. “You can wish to trade places with me. That doesn’t make you stronger than a genie, but it does allow me to become mortal once more and live out the rest of my life. You are then, however, the genie until someone else wishes you out. That’s the cycle.”

Alfred thought for a moment, the silent state foreign to most who knew him. He had heard there were loopholes with genies, and remembered figuring one out when he was less than sober once. He had long since forgotten how they had gotten on the topic of genies, but he remembered saying something that seemed to make a lot of sense… what was it? Oh yeah!

“So what if I was going to wish for you to be my magical life servant? Does that count as infinite wishes?” Alfred asked.

From the drained expression Arthur gave him, Alfred figured he had gotten pretty close to the loophole.

“No…” Arthur started off slowly, thinking. “But it isn’t exactly the most pleasant thing. You would have to live with me, until your last breath. And I cannot make things appear, just myself. Not the most entertaining thing. Quite dreadful, actually.”

“I dunno…” Alfred said, looking the genie up and down. After the whole “I’m-not-going-to-kill-you-I’m-just-going-to-make-your-life-a-bit-radder” thing, Alfred did still think his genie was fairly attractive. And having someone to always take care of him didn’t sound awful. “I think it sounds pretty solid.”

Arthur paled. “I cannot grant you any infinite wishes!” He steamed. 

Alfred shrugged. “But you’ll be able to cook and stuff. Like a maid, but with better qualities, and I’d never have to pay ya. Sounds pretty good to me!”

“I’m an awful cook!” He wailed. “I’m boring conversation! You’ll have to house me! It will be like wasting a wish!” Alfred shrugged and Arthur fumed. “I’m bad at cleaning! I can’t get a job for money! I can’t give you privacy!” He leaned forward, forcing Alfred to lean back, locking eye contact with him. “I’m dreadful in bed.”

Ah, so Alfred had discovered just what the genie hadn’t wanted him to. Arthur looked nervous, his skin sweaty and his eyes wild. Like a feral animal that needs to be tamed, Alfred thought. 

“You know what? You’ve convinced me,” Alfred said, flopping back onto his bed. Arthur’s arms kept him placed over Alfred, looking down at him.

“Huh?” Arthur said, and then cleared his throat. “O-of course I did! I knew I could talk you into your senses! Who would want a plain-old stick in the mud like me around? Ha!” Arthur looked both relieved and somewhat… disappointed. “Now, about your two other wishes-”

“Two?” Alfred cut him off. “I just said you convinced me. I wish you were my magical servant for life. That makes one.”

The silence permeated the room, comprehension trickling onto Arthur’s features. And then- “Are you out of your bloody fucking mind?!” He pinned the American down, enclosing him in an entrapment of his arms, straddling him with his calves. “Why would you want a disgusting, hideous, cockwad around when you could literally wish for millions of dollars? Or a beautiful girl to adore you? Or someone who could actually please you? Or literally anything else!” Arthur screamed at Alfred. 

Alfred stared up into Arthur’s face. He saw panic, pain, fear, desperation, and… hope? How long had Arthur been doing this, anyway? Had someone hurt him before?

“Arthur,” he said softly, “I made my wish, didn’t I?” 

The genie faltered. He looked stunned, like a deer in headlights. He said, very gently, “You don’t know me. You’ll want to get rid of me eventually.” He inhaled, and said again, in the booming voice “So you wish it, so it appears!”

There was a bright flash of light and then… nothing. Alfred look around, and then curiously up at Arthur. “So, are you my servant?”

Arthur nodded, a sour expression in place. “Yes... yes I am, master Alfred.”

Alfred frowned. “You don’t have to call me master. You can just call me Alfred, if you want.”

“If I want…? What type of servants want things?!” Arthur squawked. He looked down at Alfred, before flopping over onto his side next to him. He studied Alfred from the side, before finally saying “I do not understand you, Alfred Jones.” 

Alfred shrugged, and then moved onto his side to better look at Arthur. Arthur really was gorgeous. His long lashes and high cheekbones made him look like a model, and even with his large brows, he still had the face of what Alfred would call an angel. His hair, though messy, suited him well, catching the light and looking made of gold itself. Yeah, Alfred had made a good decision. For once.

Alfred reached out a hand, and Arthur flinched. Alfred stilled, and retracted his hand. “Can I touch you?” he asked.

Arthur opened his mouth, and then shut it, and then opened it again. “You don’t have to ask.”

“But I want to. Are you okay with me touching you?”

The genie blinked. A master asking his genie for permission? It had to be a trick! Arthur was certain Alfred had ulterior motives to this entire servant business. But still, he nodded, and Alfred gently brought his hand to Arthur’s cheek. 

Warm, was Alfred’s immediate thought. Arthur was warm to the touch. It was surprising. He traced a finger down Arthur’s cheek. Arthur watched him with curious eyes. 

Arthur was certain Alfred was going to turn on him, use his intense magical powers on a way only to better Alfred, and completely shift the world’s balance. That’s what he had tried to do, anyway at some point. 

“I’m going to need to get to know you some more,” Alfred whispered. He moved his hand to Arthur’s hair. 

Arthur felt his gaze soften. No one had asked to know him for decades now. He still didn’t trust that Alfred wouldn’t abuse his powers, but damn if Alfred wasn’t seeming like the good guy right now.

Arthur looked over the American. His clear-blue eyes were half-lidded- pupils dilated, his own sandy-blond hair falling across his forehead in soft lengths. His full-lips were parted, gentle breaths coming from them. His glasses had become asqued from laying down, but even with their crooked frame, he held his own attractiveness. Perhaps he would be able to convince this man to eventually take his place- he certainly looked the part of a genie. Maybe he would be able to seduce him into the role. 

Alfred didn’t even realise he had been staring into Arthur’s eyes, until Arthur had breathly asked “Is there anything I can do for you, master?”

Alfred’s eyes widened and he swallowed. “O-oh, uh.” His tongue felt thick. He began to retract his hand from Arthur’s air, but the genie swiftly caught it. 

The Englishman used his advantage to push Alfred back onto his back, effectively pinning him between his arms again. However, Arthur seemed to have a different purpose this time around. He leaned down and whispered into Alfred’s ear, “You know, they say genies tell lies. And that’s true. I can be pleasing, in many aspects.” He dragged his other hand up the American’s shirt, fingertips ghosting his skin. “Wouldn’t you like to test it out?” He purred, earning a shiver from the pinned man.

“Uh...” Alfred intelligently said, and Arthur began to nibble on Alfred’s neck, earning him a nice gentle groan from the man beneath him.

Alfred’s head reeled. He could feel his face getting warmer, and that wasn’t the only effect Arthur seemed to be having on him. His dry spell had been for quite some time now, and he had even thought of purchasing some form of toy to help him- 

“The dildo!” Alfred shouted, launching upright and spilling Arthur onto the floor. 

Arthur glared up at him. “I beg your pardon?! I present myself and you think about rubber instead?!”

Alfred stood up, and shook his head. “No, no! I wasn’t thinking of, well, okay, yeah, I was thinking of a rubber, but the actual giant dick in the room! Where the hell am I going to put that?! My roommates are going to flip if they see it!” (More like mercilessly tease him from Francis’ part, but that was more of a side note than anything.)

Arthur looked at Alfred from the floor, and then laughed. “You’re on your own for that one, lad! You could throw it out the window, that seems to be something you do with magical items.”

Alfred huffed and gave Arthur an exasperated look. “Can’t you try to be useful?”

Arthur shrugged. “Are I not being of use? I offered you advice.”

Alfred groaned, and glanced back to the thing that stood as tall as himself. “Can you store it in your lamp with you?” 

Arthur sniffed, and crossed his arms, reverting back to his legs in a pretzel style. “That’s your object. It holds no use in my lamp, so it does not go in there.”

Alfred walked around the dildo, trying to think. He just needed it out of the room before Kiku and Francis returned home. 

After two more long hours of debate on what to do with it, Alfred eventually shoved it in an old telescope box he had, and shoved both the telescope and boxed-dick into their tiny living-room closet. It would work, for now at least. He would figure out what to do with it later. 

For now, he was exhausted. Almost being murdered and then getting a magical servant did that to you, you know?

After changing into his boxers and t-shirt, Alfred scooped up his phone and Arthur’s lamp from the kitchen, and returned in his room to find Arthur half-asleep on his floor. He was sitting sitting, but slouching slightly. Alfred set the lamp down on his nightstand, and then tapped Arthur’s shoulder.

“Arthur? Are you awake?” 

Arthur stirred and lazily looked up at him. “Yes, what do you need?” He asked, rubbing his eye. 

Alfred bit his lip. This guy was pretty cute. He shook his head. “Uh, nothing. Just thought maybe we should get some sleep?”

“You want me to sleep with you?”

Alfred felt his cheeks dust pink, before clearing his throat. “I want you to sleep where you are most comfortable.”

“Is that an order?” the genie inquired, gazing up at Alfred. 

Alfred swallowed. “Y-yeah. Yeah it is.”

“Okay then.” Arthur disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and then reappeared in Alfred’s bed, his attire missing his vest. “Coming to bed?” The sight of Arthur’s half-naked form in his bed made Alfred’s heart drum a bit quicker.

Alfred stared, and then climbed into bed. The two awkwardly laid night to each other, Alfred wondering if he should snuggle with the genie, before Arthur stuck his arm out and said “Come here, lad.”

Alfred graciously snaked his arms around Arthur, before relaxing and falling into a deep sleep. 

Arthur was surprised, and pretty grateful. Perhaps winning this American’s heart and convincing him to take his place would be easier than he thought. 

The two soundly slept, up until Francis had come in at ten the next morning with a laugh, and asked “What is this?” upon seeing Arthur and Alfred snuggled up.

Alfred had awoken with a jolt, and shoved Arthur from his bed in his panic and crying “It’s nothing!” 

Or perhaps there would be some trial. Arthur wasn’t exactly certain on how to woo someone he wanted to strangle every other minute. 

All in due time.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a doozy to write! I apologise if it feels rushed, I kind of busted this out all in one and a half nights. Oh Arthur, your plan may be more complicated than you think...


End file.
